A very Destiel Christmas
by Melissa Samuelsen
Summary: Castiel, unaware that the Winchester's don't celebrate Christmas, tries to spend the holiday with his 'family'. But after a few to many eggnogs and a lot of conversation he tells his closest friends his true feelings.
1. Chapter 1

Christmas in the bunker was like any other day for the Winchesters. Sam sat at the computer typing away while Dean did…..well nothing actually. He went from room to room trying to stay out of Sam's way while avoiding anything productive. Do a little target practice, rearrange the things in his room, and listen to some Lynard Skynard. Ya know the usual 'I'm trying to look like I'm doing something without actually doing anything' routine he's master over the years. But now he's run out of useless tasks and the boredom has set in. The one monster he could never defeat.

"SAM! SAMMY!" His course voice echoed off the walls. "SAAAAMMMMM."

"Not now Dean." The aforementioned brother replied, a bit annoyed.

"But Sammy…." The green eyed hunter thrashed about on the couch a few rooms away, whining more than before. "There is nothing to do. I'm dying here man."

"I'm pretty sure no one has ever died from boredom. A pissed off younger brother though….." Sam sat back and sighed. Over the past few days Dean's restlessness had started to reach an all-time high. That man wasn't made to wait. "There are plenty of things to do around here. You could….unbox some things, go through some journals…"

"I'm trying to cure my boredom not add to it." Dean closed his eyes. "Nerd stuff is not my thing."

"Fine then why don't you…I don't know go jerk off to some cartoon porn."

"You're on the computer." He paused. "And how many times do I have to tell you it's called 'anime'."

"You want the computer? Come get it. I can find something else to do." The younger Winchester didn't receive a reply. "Dean?"

"That involves movement. Bring it to me?"

"Not gonna happen." Sam laughed, returning to his research.

"Jack ass." Dean closed his eyes again, but not before his brother replied the usual 'bitch.' It didn't take long for the hunter to fall asleep. Whenever they had down time it seemed Dean would catch up on the sleep he'd miss while out in the field.

The bunker grew quiet and both Winchester boys relished it; each in their own way. Dean continued his slumber while Sam read in a nearby chair. Nights like these made their life worthwhile; made things seem almost normal….or at least normal adjacent. The peacefulness made Castiel, who stood at their door, question whether he wanted to disturb them. But it was Christmas after all and although the religious aspect of this holiday was lost on him he understood the secularized aspect. Christmas should be spent with family, this he knew, so he knocked on the steel door and waited for Sam's familiar 'Just a sec.'

The door opened with a creaked. Instead of a face Castiel was greeted with the barrel of a gun. "Cass?" Sam asked a moment later. "Come in." The angel followed him into the bunker. "Dean is sleeping. I'll wake him."

"If you'd like. But I'm not here for Dean." Castiel had only been here a few times and the vastness of the place never ceased to awe him. "Well, not only for Dean. I'm here for you as well."

"Cass?" Dean rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat up. "Hey man." He stretched then a moment later it dawned on him that the angel was in fact here. "If you're here that means you have something for us? Right?!"

"Well yes…"

Before Castiel could continue he was cut off. "It's about fucking time. I could feel the rust creeping in."

"But you aren't made of metal."

"So what's going on?" Sam asked, sitting in his chair once again. "Someone from the god squad in a jam?"

"No. There are no angels at work here." He paused. "Although popular myth states one spoke to the 'wise men' but none of my brother's will take credit for that."

"What?" Dean looked from Castiel to Sam.

"The wise men. At least that's what they are called today. They weren't that 'wise'…more like in the right place at the right time. Lucky men would be more accurate. But it doesn't have the same ring to it."

"I repeat…what?"

"Not that that isn't very interesting..." Sam chuckled. "Cass why are you here?"

"It's Christmas." He smiled.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"You spend Christmas with friends and family. Enjoy their company, share stories and gifts."

"Guess you didn't get the memo. The Winchester's don't do Christmas." Dean replied gruffly.

"I received no such 'memo'. Had I known I wouldn't have come." Castiel replied, eyes downcast. "If I've caused you some sort of inconvenience I apologize."

"Nah, man. It's alright." Sam gave his brother a dirty look. "Just because we aren't the Christmas-y type doesn't mean you can't be."

"It's a human holiday. Angels aren't supposed to be the have such revelries."

"Then why even bring it up?" Dean was making his way to the kitchen. All this holiday talk was annoying him.

"Because I thought that it meant something to you…..and if it did I wanted to…." Realizing what he was about to say Castiel cut himself off. "It's of no importance. I was mistaken. Perhaps I should leave."

"Stay….leave. Doesn't matter. Just don't use a stupid holiday as an excuse." Dean cast a glance over his shoulder. "I'll pour you a drink."

Once Dean was out of sight Sam did his best to reassure the angel. "Don't let him get to you. You know how he can be." He paused taking note of the frown on Castiel's face. "Although he tries to hide it he actually cares. In a strange 'Dean' sort of way."

"I guess that's something." Castiel sighed. "But it's hard to take solace in that."

"He only gets this grumpy when you're around."

"That doesn't make it better."

Dean reemerged, a glass of eggnog in each hand. He handed one to Castiel and held the other. When Sam gave him a disappointed look he replied "You got legs. Get your own." Doing as instructed the younger brother went to fetch one for himself…taking his dear sweet time so as to give the pair some time to talk. "How have you been?" Dean asked once he was sure they were alone.

"Busy."

"Not what I meant Cass."

"I didn't come here to talk business."

"Yea Christmas, I heard ya the first time." Dean sat his glass on the table and took a seat on the couch. "In all the years ya've known us not once did you try to spend a Christmas with us. So why now?"

There was a reason behind Castiel's sudden interest in this holiday. One that he wasn't quite comfortable telling Dean yet. Maybe after a few more glasses of eggnog, which he didn't particularly like by the way. Regardless of this he drank, so as not to hurt Dean's feelings. "As I said. I thought that it was important to you and therefore should be important to me."

"Ya know sometimes you make no sense. 'Important to you blah blah important to me."

"Did I do something to upset you?" Castiel asked taking a seat beside the hunter.

"No." Sarcasm oozed from his response.

"I should leave. This was a bad idea."

"Wait…" Dean grabbed the angel's arm before he could stand. "You're right. It's Christmas and….it _should_ be spent with family. This holiday isn't the same if it isn't filled with awkward conversation and uncomfortable silence."

"And tacky sweaters."

"God I hate those. Like who honestly like those things?"

"I've seen a few that were….interesting."

"In the same way a train wreck or Miley Cyrus is interesting."

"Don't poke fun. That girl has serious issues. Someone should intervene."

Their conversation progressed naturally. Whatever was bugging Dean was forgotten somewhere between the first drink and the 'West Side Story' reference. They laughed more than they thought they would and by the time Sam came back things seemed back to normal.

"I nearly forgot. There was something I have for each of you." Castiel remarked three eggnogs later. "It's not Christmas without gifts. For whatever reason."

"You didn't have to." Sam interjected. "We didn't get you anything."

"You're friendship is enough a gift for me, Sam." The sincerity of his words were reflected on his face. He handed Sam and Dean each a small packaged decorated to the nines. Ribbon, bows, even glitter.

"You didn't steal these did you?" Dean asked, shaking his gift.

"I'm an Angel of the Lord Dean. We don't steal." Castiel looked away sheepishly. "We do however borrow."

Dean opened his first and was delighted to see a slice of pie in a plastic container. "It's from that bakery in Poughkeepsie you like." What Castiel failed to mention was the fact that he had to wash dishes for two nights in order to earn that slice. But Dean didn't need to know the particulars.

Sam was next….and wasn't as excited as Dean was. "It's an amulet."

"I can see that."

"That engraving was done almost five thousand years ago. It's supposed to help ward against evil….or indigestion. The translation wasn't clear."

Sam cast a look to Dean. "Hey don't look at me. I _like_ mine" was Dean's reply.

"Is it unsatisfactory?" The look in Castiel's eye was a mix of disappointment and shame.

"No, no, no." Sam smiled. "It's great. Thanks Cass. Now if evil indigestion tries to get into the bunker I can go 'nope. I got an amulet.'"

"I feel as though you are making fun of me."

"Not at all." He gave the angel a slight hug. "I really do like it."

"Sam's right Cass. The gifts are awesome." Dean's mouth was full of pie as he spoke. "But we didn't get you nothing."

"Dean your existence is the only gift I need." The eggnog had started to take effect and Castiel was mostly unaware of what he was saying. He smiled totally oblivious to the weight of his words.


	2. Chapter 2

"Well then….I should probably….yea." Sam stammered, getting to his feet and heading towards his room. "Night Cass…Dean." He leaned in close to his brother and whispered with a teasing wink "Good luck, dude."

"Goodnight Sam." Castiel replied, before turning to Dean. "Should you be 'turning in' as well?"

"Every part of me is saying 'yes'." Dean sighed. "But you're in no shape to be… flying. Who'd have thought angels were such light weights." Another deep sigh. "Want to sleep it off out here?"

"I don't sleep. We've been over this."

"Yea that sounds about right." These sighs are becoming a nuisance. "Then do you…I don't know…want to just sit it off?"

"If that's alright."

"Awesome. See ya in the morning Cass." He patted the angels shoulder before heading to his room. The record player on the night stand was still playing softly and once inside his little piece of heaven he sat on his bed and let the voice of Ronnie Van Zant fill his head. Castiel would follow him in here shortly, he'd bet his pie on it….well maybe not his pie but you catch my drift. After saying something like that there was no way the angel wouldn't follow him. Right?

Time ticked by. Seconds, minutes, almost an hour. The record had finished and a new one had started. Dean wondered to himself just what exactly Castiel meant. It's not like his friend was experienced in this field. Had Castiel ever had any kind of feelings for someone other than his Father before? Nah, no way. It's in his programing. Love the Father and just kind of deal with humanity and everything else. But Castiel has gone against that before. So maybe he's doing that now?

Get a grip Dean. You're reading too far into this. All he said was 'your existence is a gift' or some shit like that. It would be different if he said 'Hey Dean I'm in love with you. I want to throw you on the bed and kiss you all over. Pull your shirt off, bite at your neck. Listen as you breathlessly call my name. Slide my hands down your muscular chest to your abs. Fiddle with the buckle of your belt, then slip your pants clean off. Kiss my way down your body. Look into your green eyes as I take your…..'

Dean sat up, eyes wide open. "Why the hell did I just think that?! Dude…I need brain bleach." But the fact is he _did _just picture that. And, more importantly, it didn't _totally_ disgust him. "Too much nog. That's what's going on here." He flopped back down, making sure to adjust the blankets so there was no proof as to how much he liked that mental image. He put an arm over his face. "Too much nog."

What seemed like a lifetime later and the hunter still laid awake in bed. 'Was Cass still here' he wondered. He didn't want to go look. That would mean he _wanted_ to know instead of just being curious. A rapping at his door answered his questions.

"Dean?" the familiar voice of his friend asked. "Are you still awake?"

"Unfortunately."

"May I come in?" He remained in the hall. "It's rude to enter someone's room without permission."

"Sure Cass. Whatever."

"It seems the eggnog has worn off, so I was going to leave." The angel made his way to Dean's bed, standing just beside the hunter. "Before I go, I wanted to thank you for a lovely evening. It was nice to spend time with you and Sam…like we used to."

"There ya go again….saying weird stuff again."

"I don't know what you mean."

"Weird stuff. Chick stuff. You're not a chick Cass. Don't say chick stuff." Dean rolled over and buried his face in the pillow. "It's weird."

"Then my apologies. I didn't mean to 'weird you out.'" He placed a hand on Dean's bare shoulder and smiled. "Good night, Dean."

Just as the angel reached the door Dean asked a question into the pillow. Unable to make it out Castiel asked him to repeat it. "What you said earlier. Did ya mean it?"

"Of course I did. The sweaters creep me out as much as they do you, Dean. And I'm curious as to how the tradition started."

"Not that. The uh…" He sat up but still didn't face his friend. "The other thing."

"I'm afraid that isn't very specific."

"You're gonna make me say it." Dean chuckled. "You're such a girl." If he had been looking he would have noticed Castiel's scowl. "The things you've been saying lately. About family, and things that matter to me, and about me being a gift….ya know what. I can't do this." He threw his arms up. "Would you listen to me? Damn it I sound like somethin' straight outa Hugh Grant chick flick." Cass was once again standing in front of him. Straining to look at the angel's face he noticed just how confused he was. "And have no idea what I'm saying."

"I've caused you some sort of poultry related discomfort."

"That's not it." The hunter sighed. He's gonna have to spell it out for the idot. Son of a bitch. "Cass….how do you feel about me?"

"You're a dear friend. And I care about you."

"That all?"

Castiel stood silent for some time. The feelings in question were still not entirely clear to him. He's heard about them, read about them, but now that he's felt them…. He sighed and handed Dean a weathered black box he hid in his coat. "Here."

"This doesn't answer…."

"Just open it Dean." He sat beside the hunter and placed both hands in his lap. As Dean opened the small box he held his breath. All of these emotions were new and exciting but the ones we was experiencing now…..They terrified him.

"Is that…." Dean started, picking up the small silver chain. Hanging from it was a silver locket, with the unmistakable initials MW engraved on the side. "Cass…how did you? Dad said it was lost."

"During a hunt in '96. He was going after a ….."

"Wendigo. In Tulsa." Dean turned to Castiel. "How did you know?"

"I've gone through the journal a few times. With Sam's consent of course." Castiel's eyes were still locked on his clenched hands. "Your brother shared the story with me. About how angry you were that John had lost something so dear to your mother….to you."

"So….what..…you've had it for weeks or even months and only _now_ you're telling me? That's a dick move, Cass." Anger was creeping into Dean's voice.

"No. I…" He paused thinking about his nine month search for the trinket. After Sam's story Castiel took it upon himself to locate it and return it to the Winchesters. Nine months of searching every inch of Tulsa, digging and redigging; every spare moment he had dedicated to this task. "I came upon it recently. A few days ago actually. But I didn't know how to…." He sighed. "This was your true gift. The pie was because I didn't know if I could give this to you properly."

Dean sat there in silence, staring at the pictures inside the locket; one of him the other of Sam. "Why?" His voice cracked. "Why did you look for it?"

"Because it needs to be with its rightful owner. Not in a pile of dirt in some cornfield." Castiel paused, looking up at Dean. "Because it means a lot to you. And I…I wanted to be the one who returned." Pursing his lips he looked away for a moment, trying to find the courage to say out loud what he's only been able to say in his mind. "You asked how I feel about you. This is how I feel, Dean." He took the locket and placed it back in the box. "If this isn't clear then no amount of words would be able to."

Holding the box in his hand Dean let the wave of emotions roll over him. Anger because this was kept secret from him, sadness from remembering his mother wearing it proudly, happiness for having it in his possession, surprise that his friend went out of his way to return it. Love for the aforementioned friend. He placed the sentimental gift on the nightstand. "Cass….I…."

"You don't have to say anything." He looked away from Dean's intense stare. "I don't _expect_ you to say anything."

"Here I am with two gifts." Dean chuckled. "Two awesome gifts, by the way. And you're left with….nothing."

"As I said before…."

"Can it, Bartleby. If you think I'd let that lame ass line count as you're gift you're wrong. I have a reputation as a great gift-giver to uphold." Dean placed a hand on Castiel's cheek and turned him so their eyes met. "And I ain't about to lose to some tree topper." Without a hint of hesitation he leaned forward and pressed his lips to the angels. At first a bit shocked by his friend's actions Castiel simply sat there, eyes wide. Once the shock wore off (mostly due to Dean's tongue gliding along his lips) the angel allowed himself to melt into the hunter's embrace. Tender, soft kisses were replaced with fervent, passionate ones. "Merry Christmas, Cass." Dean whispered against Castiel's lips.

Eye's half lidded Dean pulled the angel's trench coat off and tossed it aside. Tie loosened, shirt unbuttoned, and pants already being clawed at, Castiel had to hand it to him the hunter did work efficiently. Doing the rest himself the angel hovered inches from the man he had come to love. With a flick of his hand he turned down the lights and turned the record player on once again. The song was unfamiliar to the angel but it didn't much matter. "Merry Christmas, Dean." He whispered a response lowering Dean to the bed, and moving the blankets so it covered them both. Just as he began to lustfully nip at Dean's neck, to which the hunter responded with an eager moan, he flicked his hand again causing the door to close. After all, he didn't want to wake Sam.


End file.
